Journal Entries and Letters
by Inyx Dawn
Summary: It was wrong. I knew it, he knew it. But I can’t stop. James, get ready to hate me. It was that summer, the summer of your son’s fourteenth birthday that I realized I had fallen in love with him.
1. Journal Entry One

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** It was wrong. I knew it, he knew it. But I can't stop. James, get ready to hate me. It was that summer, the summer of your son's fourteenth birthday that I realized I had fallen in love with him.

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_**_Journal Entry One _**_

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_Journal Entry 1_

_August 3, 1995_

It was wrong. I knew it, he knew it. But I can't stop. My body refuses, though my mind tries to overcome. And it was no use, no use.

Thirteen years old, and his eyes, his _eyes_. They were twin emeralds, dulled and beautiful, endless and ageless. The pain, the sorrow, those _eyes_.

It might have been that day, almost one year ago, when it all started. I was happy and sad and angry and confused and – and those…_his _eyes! I hate you and I hate me and I hate him. But I don't and I can't and I don't _want_ to.

He saved me. And he told me that I saved him. But I didn't and he wouldn't understand. How could I have saved him if I couldn't even save myself?

And I left, and he raged and I was furious. On the run, a fugitive, a criminal, and innocent of the crime. And I knew it and he knew it and I knew he knew and I loved him all the more for it. And I knew I shouldn't have, not in that way.

He was your first born, and you named me the godfather. Just like how we used to joke about. And you were happy and she was happy and I…and I wasn't. I was lost and lonely and everyone was leaving me.

And then you both were killed. And I was blamed. And I was more alone and lost and lonely and _scared_ then I had been. We used to joke about fear. We were stupid and young and foolish. But I was really and truly frightened! They thought I had killed you! You! The man who treated me like a brother, who accepted me despite my family, who gave me a godson. My best friend.

So I went to prison. And I survived thirteen years of pain and agony. I was forced day after day after day to relive my conviction, to relive my familial horrors, to relive the sadness and anger when my brother, my Slytherin, cunning, Death Eater brother died.

But I escaped. And I had never been happier since before you got married. So I was free but not, and I could see my godson but he couldn't see me. And I was sad again.

But I saw him and he saw me. Of course, at first he believed that I had betrayed you but he figured it out and Remus figured it out and I wasn't alone anymore.

So Peter escaped. And I was furious! I couldn't give my godson a home. We wouldn't be the family I knew—know—we both wanted—want. So I hid. Held captive once again in the house of my family. The same house I thought I'd never see after I ran away when I was sixteen.

And then your son came in midsummer. And it was better and I was happier and the house didn't feel like a prison as much as it had.

And – and – and. No, I can't but I need to and I don't want to. And – and – and. James, get ready to hate me.

It was that summer, the summer of your son's fourteenth birthday that I realized I had fallen in love with him.

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**© 2008 Inyx Dawn**


	2. Journal Entry Two

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** It is so much harder to write, even harder to say. I will force this hand to write words that frighten me. I will force my mind to relive past realizations. And I will tell you the story of how I came to love my godson, more than I should have.

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_**_Journal Entry Two _**_

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_Journal Entry 2_

_August 4, 1995_

I hated myself. I wanted to die, go back to Azkaban, anything! But I didn't really.

I wanted to be with – with – oh God, James; you don't know how hard this is for me. To tell the man I had thought of as my brother, the man who entrusted his son to me should anything happen to him, that – that – I can't. And I need to but I don't want to.

It is so much harder to write, even harder to say. And sometimes I'm glad you're not here. Because I know what you'd do and what you'd say and – and –and I've been through _enough_. I know hatred, I know loneliness, and I know pain.

But not from you, never from you, and I don't want it from you.

I'm selfish. It's something your son has shown me. Indirectly of course. He's so innocent, so _beautiful_, and more than once I've found myself drowning in his emerald gaze. Serene and sad and guilty and, oh _God_ James! I fear for him I really do!

He brings out the best and the worst in me that boy of yours. Every time I look at him I feel a warmth spread through my veins, but at the same time, I feel like I'm in Azkaban again, afraid and worried and cold.

And every day he places those jewels for eyes on my face, I feel a little more of myself die and a little more of myself come back. And it's wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time.

He has so much responsibility on his small shoulders; so much that it amazes me every day that he is still so carefree and happy and wishful. But – but – oh James this is what saddens me. To see the – the _maturity_ in him; something that should not be there for many more years.

And I see what he hides: his pain, his guiltiness, his sorrow, his pessimism. And I see how he wakes up every day as if he's expecting someone close to him to die. And I see how he falls asleep every day, reluctant as if his whole life is but a dream and nightmare combined.

My heart aches for your son, James! I want nothing more than to hide him away from the world, but I – I can't. You wouldn't want him to have a sheltered life, and neither do I. So I live day after day, barely here. Watching, being nothing more than an observer to the life of my godson and your legacy.

Sometimes, I fancy that I can actually picture you being okay with this. You're understanding, telling me that it's okay because you believe that I deserve to love and be loved. And then you'll break the mood by telling Harry that he can rest a little easier knowing it's me he's with and not someone he's only just met.

But I can't fool myself, and I know this tears at my godson too.

Oh I am getting no where fast, my friend. But I can't bring myself to tell you how this came about. And I know I need to.

He's watching me right now, you know. Almost anticipating the moment his father will be told his son's tragic story. Knowing I'll try to water it down. But he doesn't know what I'm writing or for what purpose.

I can see him in my peripheral vision, his shoulder length unkempt hair in an adorable disarray. He looks just like you, with Lily's eyes. Except…he _doesn't_. Oh I can imagine vibrant emeralds dancing in mirth. And I can imagine soft hair, untamable and short. And – and – and oh James! I can _imagine_ all I want, to my heat's content even. But it doesn't _change_ anything.

Instead of glowing green eyes, mirror images of you wife's, I can see darkened emeralds, burnt out and forever sorrowful. And instead of your wild hair, I can see slightly more tamable hair, lifeless and dull.

He reminds me of all that I have lost. Every day, looking at him saddens me. But – but I know that I will always, _always_ –

No I cannot do it! It pains me. I have lost you already once before. But I refuse to loose you in the afterlife as well!

Tomorrow, I've decided. I will force this hand to write words that frighten me. I will force my mind to relive past realizations. And I will tell you the story of how I came to love my godson, more than I should have.

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**© 2008 Inyx Dawn**


	3. Journal Entry Three

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** It scared me. Something changed in your son. Something that he didn't tell me at the time. And I wouldn't find out until six days ago. And that was when my secret problem for your son became known to him.

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_**_Journal Entry Three _**_

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_Journal Entry 3_

_August 5, 1995_

Let's start a couple months before the end of your son's third year at Hogwarts.

Alright, so Harry, Hermione, and Ron – oh! You don't know them do you? Hermione's a headstrong muggleborn, brightest witch of her age. Ron's a Weasley: pureblooded, a bit on the poor side, with five brothers and a sister.

His father's nice; kind of muggle obsessed though, and works at the Ministry for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts or something like that. His mother, however, is a she-dragon I swear! She's worse than Lily and your parents combined! And she has some deep seated hatred for me for some reason. I think she suspects something which is a terrifying prospect. Even though Harry's more mine than hers.

Anyway, so the Golden Trio – that's what those three are called around the school – had just witnessed Buckbeack being "executed". Um, Buckbeack is Hagrid's pet hippogriff. That man gets weirder every year. But yeah, so Harry, Hermione, and Ron had seen the "execution" when Wormtail, who was named Scabbers while with the Weasley's, bit Ron because he saw me nearby.

He ran to the Whomping Willow but Ron was able to catch him. And, well, you know how I am. I recklessly grabbed onto Ron as Padfoot, and dragged them into the tree until we reached the Shrieking Shack.

I'd just changed out of my animagus form when Hermione and Harry got there. And oh God James, your son had looked at me with such hatred. I couldn't stand it then and I know that if he ever gazed at me with those verdant eyes holding that emotion in them, my heart would tear.

His hair was in disarray, and he was breathing through his teeth. That was the only time I've ever seen him look like you.

He'd been about to curse me when Moony came in. God, I love that man sometimes. I never would have thought it possible to be scared of a thirteen year old. But there I had been, on the floor with your son on top of me, wand at my throat. Of course I'd taunted him a bit; can't say I was all that sane at the time.

Anyway, so with Remus' help, we explained to Harry and the other two what had really happened that dreadful Halloween. Or, at least, we were able to after Snivellus was thrown into a wall. Ha, he came in and we bantered a bit before your son blasted him through the bed and into the wall.

Then we'd explained. We managed to get the three to believe us after we got Pettigrew out of his animagus form. Moony and I had him at wand point, ready to kill him, when Harry stepped in. I'd been irritated since it had been Wormtail's fault that I had spent thirteen years in Azkaban in the first place. However, your son has quite the intelligence. I saw a bit of Lily in him that day too.

He said that if we killed him, not only would I be going back to that dreaded prison but so would Remus. He said that it would be better if we just brought him into Hogwarts so that the Dementors could deal with him. Oh! That's right, you don't know. Dementors were placed around the school to keep me out. Ha! As if that could work.

But anyway, Harry and I helped Ron out while Moony had Pettigrew. You see, I kind of bit on Ron's leg too hard so he couldn't really walk. But in my defense, I was more insane at that point than I'd like to admit.

When we got outside, I took Harry a ways from the group to talk to him about living with me once my name was cleared. However, before he could answer Hermione screamed his name. She was pointing at the sky where the moon was becoming full. It would seem that all of us had forgotten that that night was a full moon, and as such, Remus hadn't taken his potion.

Wormtail had gotten away that night as I had been too busy keeping Moony from the others. Snivellus came out and stood in front of them, and though I am loathe to admit it, he was always quite the wizard so I knew they'd be alright.

However, I had lost Remus at one point, and found myself at the lake surrounded my Dementors. I was unconscious the whole time but from what Harry has told me, they almost ate my soul.

A scary thing to be a victim of, but when he told me I had been worried about him. I had no idea what was going on, but he'd been watching. However, they obviously did not succeed as here I am, telling a man who was once my very best friend my most personal and terrifying story.

Your son was vague about the whole thing, but apparently Hermione had been given a Time Turner to get to all her classes – she's a studious one that girl – and they had used it to help me and Buckbeak live. You see, the Harry that had gone back in time had saved the other Harry and I with the Dementors by casting one hell of a Patronus. And the Harry that had been with me at the time had lost consciousness as soon as the other one had driven the last of the Dementors away.

The next time I woke up, I was in some tower awaiting the Dementors Kiss. But shortly after, Harry and Hermione show up on Buckbeak –your son's a reckless one – and Hermione blasted the cell gate away. I hoped on with them and we landed at the entrance yard.

I think it was at that moment that I – that I – oh James I want to say it! You know I do! But I just – can't bring myself to.

His verdant eyes had been vibrant at that moment, still high on adrenaline. His midnight hair had been a right mess, and he couldn't seem to get that goofy smile off his face.

I said my goodbyes and thank yous before taking off on Buckbeak. That journey back to my old house was the hardest one I'd ever made because once again I was leaving Harry. I'd made myself promise while I was in Azkaban that if I ever made it out of there, and if I found my godson, I would never leave him again. But sometimes you have to improvise I suppose.

Dumbledore had found me, and he believed me too. I love that old crack pot. Even if he did leave Harry with the Dursley's. I let him use the house as the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. And that summer – this summer – Harry arrived.

But he looked so different from that night a mere four months ago. Dulled emeralds with only a spark of mirth are what had looked up at him early July. His hair hung lank around his pale face, and his smile was small.

It scared me. Something changed in your son. Something that he didn't tell me at the time. And I wouldn't find out until six days ago. And that was when my secret problem for your son became known to him.

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**© 2008 Inyx Dawn**


	4. Journal Entry Four

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** I think, James, that this was the only way to tell you because, really, I've been doing this for a very long time; putting the blame on others.

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_**_Journal Entry Four _**_

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_Journal Entry 4_

_August 6, 1995_

He stared at me for the longest time that first day, June 6th. I swear I thought my heart had torn open. His-his _eyes_; those beautiful, gorgeous, heartbroken, terrifying, soul-churning _eyes_.

He wasn't alone when he came through the door, of course. All of the Weasley's and Hermione were there. But when they made their way into the kitchen, Harry walked slowly towards me, resting his head on my chest lightly. It might have been then when I really realized just how much he needs you, a father.

His hand slipped into mine, and he led me upstairs, opening a random door and had me follow him inside. He-he spent the whole-the entire time-oh James I don't want to hurt you! Despite what you may think, I really truly don't.

After that day, the rest of June was a blur. A raging, roaring, verdant blur. A mess of everything and nothing all at once, but I couldn't tell you what happened even if I wanted to. I don't know what happened, all I remember is his birthday; _Harry's_ fourteenth birthday.

I'd spent all of my time in Azkaban thinking of your son. About how I wish I hadn't gone after that rat but rather had stayed with him. But I left him, and I don't understand how he could forgive me; I can't.

His present was most likely something you wouldn't approve of, but I was sure Lily would. Your wife had an open mind. Of course, I'm hoping you've obtained one too.

It was a journal, much like this one but I'm sure Harry's used his for different purposes. I know you probably think it's not something your son should possess; too girly perhaps. However, if there's one person in this world who I think needs a place to flood out, a place to rant, it's Harry.

The cover was a simple black with gold edging; his name was etched neatly on the bottom. And I'll have you know that he liked it. Well, I think he did.

Those dead looking green eyes had glittered for but a moment. His mouth tilted up slightly, and a faint blush adorned his cheeks. It killed me to see him look like that; like receiving presents was special.

Once everyone had gone to their respective bedrooms, I'd laid down on my rather lumpy mattress and stared relentlessly at the ceiling. The confusion I had felt then still resides in me now; you probably don't think so.

You were always the leader, nevermind what people said about the two of us being partners. And you had known who you were going to spend the rest of your life with the moment you saw her. I never had that luxury. I hadn't realized who it was that would steal my heart, who would hold it in the palm of their hand and squeeze it until I bent forward, lungs tight, gasping for breath.

And that person was definitely not who I had expected.

That night, the night of July 31st 1994, your son confided in me something that would have made you roll in your grave.

He was standing there, frozen and silent, gazing at me with eyes of jade, his heart beating as fast as mine, and he said, "I love you, Sirius. But I shouldn't, and neither should you."

I think, James, that this was the only way to tell you because, really, I've been doing this for a very long time; putting the blame on others.

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**© 2008 Inyx Dawn**


	5. Journal Entry Five

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Because, my nearest friend, I really do love and cherish your son, no matter how much all three of us wish I didn't.

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_**_Journal Entry Five _**_

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_Journal Entry 5_

_August 7, 1995_

Before I continue the story, I want-I _need_ you to know that I hadn't meant for this to happen. I didn't want your son to return my perverted feelings. Or, at least, I knew he shouldn't. Whether I wanted him to or not is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I just-I-oh God, James, I am so so _so_ sorry. It wasn't supposed to end up like this.

I spent the next day with my head down, not daring to look up in case my eyes found his heart stopping ones.

It hadn't changed anything, of course, because I couldn't bring myself to ignore him. He found me that night, alone and cornered in my room. For the longest time we just…_stared_ at each other. I don't know what he saw in my eyes – perhaps fear or anxiety or even, well, I'm sure you know – but in his I only found emptiness and a bitter love.

You've only ever been with Lily, James, so I don't expect you to really understand what that type of love is. No matter what you must think of me, do not blame your son. It was the type of love that eats away at a person until they're nothing but a shell of what they once were.

I-I _ruined_ your son and oh _God_ James I don't think you understand how that made me feel! That I was the cause of this pain! I felt sick to my stomach and I must have looked it because he-he gave me a small smile before talking.

And the things he said! The dullness in his verdant eyes, those hauntingly beautiful orbs that I know will haunt me for the rest of my days, the skeletal frame and sickly pale skin. All of it, my fault. His-his magic had-had-had

James, I very nearly killed myself after he explained; I don't know what it'll do to you and I can't-I can't _tell_ you because Harry wants to. Your gorgeous, hurt child. So attached is a letter he gave to me after that night.

Somehow, somehow that boy knew about these entries. I didn't ask at the time and I still haven't. What we are now, James, was influenced greatly by the conversation we had and I – _we_ – can only hope that you'll understand.

Because, my nearest friend, I really do love and cherish your son, no matter how much all three of us wish I didn't.

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**© 2010 Inyx Dawn**


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